The Unknown Death
by akins.brie1879
Summary: When the police investigated the murders of Cujo, they missed one of his victims.
1. Chapter 1

The whole car kept shuddering. _If I can just get it to the garage, I can call Joe. Joe isn't the most agreeable man in the world but he does get the job done and he is the closest._ Charlie thought to himself.

"C'mon, car. Just get around the corner." Charlie Wilson muttered aloud to the shaking, muttering car. _I shouldn't have taken it out at all today, but we are almost to Joe's if she could just make it._

"You can do it. Yeah, that's it. Right there you almost got it! Okay here we go." The car was starting to pick up. "Yes! Alright, good girl," Charlie cooed to it as if it was a pet. "We got it. No! No, no, no… Damned car."

A wretched grinding, some smoke spurted out of the engine, puffing around the hood and the car was a goner. Charlie slammed the car door and shoved the hood up. But just as he did the smoke attacked his face as if they were leeches starving for some of his blood.

"Damn. Stupid piece of machinery! We were almost there!" He yelled at the car, as if reasoning with it would make it somehow come back to life. He glared at the car, and begrudgingly stomped away.

Charlie Wilson stomped over to Joe Camber's garage, frustrated and annoyed with that damned car he owns. The engine must have caught on fire, _I probably forgot to get the oil changed or some stupid shit_. His temper was steaming, just like his car was this morning, he chuckled ironically at the thought.

He needed Joe to fix it up, but the place looked basically deserted as he approached it. "Joe!" Charlie yelled in a rough voice, while searching outside. Normally, the Camber's dog…what was the name of that stupid mutt? Cujo? That was it. He's normally roaming around out here. Of all days for the stupid car to go out, it picked today. The day the Cambers were gone on the road trip or some sort of shit. Charlie had thought that Joe would be working out in his garage like he normally is, but _I also thought that I would be in my car on my way to work right now and we see how that turned out. _The screen door to enter the Camber's boring, gray house swung in the wind.

"Eerie…" Charlie muttered to himself. He called for Joe again. Charlie Wilson wasn't just about to go barging into another man's house, he started to huff away. But he needed that damned car fixed.

Charlie sighed deeply, spun around and leapt up the corroding steps. He needed that car fixed or Janet and the kids would have a fit. Charlie could hear it now.  
"Charlie Wilson! You promised those children you would take them up to the beach and now you're backing out? Lord! What would my mother say if she could see me now, married to a liar?" Janet was loud and obsessed with keeping Charlie honest. He always thought to himself when she said such bullshit about her mother, "_If my mother could see you screaming at me the way one screams at a child, she would probably pat you on the back then sock you a good one." _

_Janet's lucky, I'm pretty evenly tempered. If I was Joe Camber I would have probably smacked her a new one. Maybe I should stick him on her for a while._ Again, he chuckled then sighed. Joe Camber's wife probably wouldn't have thought that was funny. Hell everybody in town knows he beats her every once in a while or at least thought about it. But he was a good mechanic and the closest one at that, even though his house was way out here in the boonies.

Charlie carefully pressed his hand up to the door of the house and half-heartedly stumbled inside.

The dank smell of a butcher's shop that sold only moldy meats flooded his nose, "Christ Almighty! It smells like something died in here! JOE! Joe you better be in here_!" Christ. What if he killed the wife! What was her name? Charlotte?_ He couldn't remember. The smell of mildew was also making its way into his nose. Charlie followed the smell into the kitchen, silently praying he wouldn't find the wife's dead corpse on the ground.

_What would I do if I found her? Call the police. That's not difficult, Charlie. Call the police. He could tell the smell was coming from the kitchen. Can't feel my toes. Can't feel my brain. Oh Lord, someone is dead in there I know it._

He pushed the hideously yellow, swinging door open. Everything was in slow motion.

The door swung into the kitchen.

It hit something.

_What was it? _

_A foot._

_Whose foot? _

_A dead foot._

_Whose foot?!_

_Charity's? _

_No._

He saw it. He breathed it all in. It was Joe Camber, all 250 pounds of him, on the ground with his throat ripped to shreds. The flies were surrounding the corpse, the smell overwhelmed him. _The blood has stopped flowing but it still isn't dry. Oh that smell. _

_Butchered. _

_An animal must have done this. _

Charlie was numb. He was supposed to do something. What do you do when you find a dead body? _Police. Right. Call the Police._ He rigidly stepped around Joe's bloody limbs and managed to miss the puddle of blood, or at least he thought he missed it. His black shoe slipped into the red, rust puddle.

Charlie's stomach heaved with disgust. He yanked his foot out of the red poison_. Don't look down, don't look down. You know it won't be good if you look down._ He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow his breathing. Those seconds would cost him. Charlie blindly grasped for the phone, but his hand grasped at open air. He knew that's where the phone was supposed to be_. How many times have I been over here? Too many._

Charlie forced his eyes to open. This isn't fair, I'm a sales man. I shouldn't have to do this. He almost left, then scolded himself slightly. Charlie Wilson does not leave a dead man and he certainly doesn't act like a priss.

His eyes sluggishly followed the cord to find the phone in Joe Camber's rotting hand. He pulled the cord so the phone itself would pop out of Joe's hand and quickly started to dial. Shivers ran down his spine. The phone just reeked of decomposition. _How long had he been here? Where is the thing that attacked him? Oh Lord. What if it was still here? If it was still here, he reasoned, it would have eaten Joe. Lord have mercy on me. I have to leave, it's going to get me._ He placed the phone up to his ear as the calm, even tone replied, "911, state your emergency."

Charlie stammered, "There's a man…. Joe Camb… I'm in his kitchen and I found…him. I found him."

"Sir? You found him what? What was he doing?" But Charlie had stopped speaking because he felt it. His hair went up on his neck and chills went down his spine. The thing that had killed Joe was in the doorway. There was a throaty, rough growl behind him. Charlie didn't know what it was, he had no idea what to do but his legs knew he had to run. Charlie bolted past the Joe, past the blood, leaving the phone hanging by its cord and the calm, even voice saying, "Sir? Sir? Are you there?"

Charlie Wilson ran out the back door. He almost stopped when he realized his car was not with him. _It's at least two miles out._ But his feet kept going. _Joe has neighbors._ Maybe he could make it, but he heard the animal behind him. _How could he lose it? There's a field. Where? Where is it?! Maybe I can lose it. The animal must have got caught behind the body in the blood or else it would have caught him by now. _ Charlie sprinted into the wheat field.

Cujo saw the Man leaning over his kill with the phone in his hand. The Man was scared. Good. He's next. He should be scared. Cujo just wants to kill, not eat or sip the water. But oh the water, I'm thirsty. But the water just tasted of tar and it hurts to drink. The Man did this. He has to pay. He wants to kill Cujo. They all do. Cujo heard the man's voice and a growl rose in his throat. The Man heard it and started to run. The 190 pound Saint Bernard had not expected this. But the chase was good. Cujo likes The Chase.

Cujo bound after the Man. Kill. His paws slipped in the blood that was beneath the body. Stupid Meat. Cujo picked himself up and bounded after the man.

The screen door was smashed to pieces in seconds as Cujo slammed through it. His head was making the red liquid like it did when the Meat had hit him right before he ripped the Meat's throat out. The Meat's blood was still on his teeth. But it was mostly dry now. He needed more. Where is the Man?

Cujo ran after Charlie just as he disappeared into the yellow field. Cujo could no longer see the Man. But he could hear him.

Charlie knew his time was limited_. I have to call someone or make it to the neighbors. I have to get out of this field!_ Charlie started creeping toward the left side of the field, there was a house on the side of it, but it was still a ways away_. One step at a time, Charlie._

Cujo couldn't see the Man. How was he to kill him? He listened intently waiting for the man to make a movement to lead Cujo to him.

There.

It was the Man. He was moving quietly but Cujo could smell the fear radiating off of him like the Meat's fear used to radiate. He slowly stepped towards him. Stalking him. The Man was the prey and he was the Predator.

Charlie knew he was almost there. He could hear the cows and that little boy playing his banjo. He must not be that far. He thought about Janet and how she would scream at the news if he died and how his girls would no longer have a father. _Oh what morbid thoughts._

Charlie knew he wasn't going to make it. But he had to try. He was only a tiny bit away. He started sprinting with every muscle he had. Just to make it to the edge of the wheat field.

Cujo leaped, knowing the Man would never make it. The dog pounced on Charlie's thigh and drove its teeth into…

The Meat! Cujo felt the blood and heard the Man's scream but all he felt was the blood. He lunged for the throat. But Charlie blocked him shoving with all his might. But it wasn't enough. He knew that. He knew that.

His arm gave way.

The dog took the gateway and ripped out Charlie's throat.

_That damned car._ Charlie thought.

Charlie was gone. Dead in a field with no one to find him.

"Sir! Sir! What has happened!? Are you there? Officer Marlin! I need you to trace this call. Whose name is Joe that lives around here?" The female receptionist asked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Saint Bernard tromped out of the wheat field, Charlie's blood still resided upon his muzzle. The dog trotted into the woods. The Man had gotten what he deserved; he would have killed Cujo otherwise. Now, he's another Meat for the birds to feed on. Cujo wandered over to the stream that used to be his old water source. He leaned over the river to take a drink.

_Revolting!_ Cujo couldn't drink the water. It was rusty and poisoned. The Man did this. The Man and the Meat. They were trying to poison him with this rust. He shook off the water the laid down and slept.

"Have you traced the call yet, Sharon?" asked Officer Brandon Marlin. _Sometimes, kids make prank calls. That's all it probably is. _"Sharon. I'm going to ask you again, but I promise it is the last time. Are you sure you heard an animal growl? It could have just been static or teenagers fooling around."

"No. Marlin. Trust me on this one."

"Alright, alright. Is this the address? Oh, this is Joe Camber's house. They have a little boy, you know. One that might be apt to making prank calls." Marlin added suggesting the whole thing was a fluke.

"Brandon Marlin, so help me."

"Fine." Marlin got his equipment and got in his squad car. "It's getting pretty late, so I'll probably just call it in and drive on home."

"_If _you don't find something."  
"Right, right," he muttered under his breath. He just started pulling out of the station, when the spunky new officer came hurtling out the doors. Marlin liked to think that the new comer was a homeless puppy that the station had adopted out of the kindness of their heart.

"Marlin! Marlin! Hey!" Danny bounded up to the car.

"What is it, Officer Jackson?" Marlin was less than pleased with the peppy newcomer. _He's just a puppy, try to be nice to him._

"I know I haven't been on many calls lately, but I was wondering if I could come with you. I really think something might become of this call!" _Oh this kid is way too peppy. Let me leave before I hit you on the nose with a newspaper. _

"No, and before you start yammering, this is not a no-please-keep-begging, it's a no-I-don't-want-to-deal-with-you."

"Okay, okay I understand. But if you let me go I'll bring you coffee for a month and I'll… give you a free haircut. I learned how to do that back home before I moved here. It was a college job, I can really do a nice once. If you just let me come I'll show you—"

"Geez, kid. Do you ever shut up? You know what? I don't want to know. Just get in."

Daniel hadn't even shut the door when Marlin started driving away. This was his first job after police academy and he was going to do his very best. _If my family was around I would show them how I just took initiative. Maybe I should tell Officer Marlin. _

"Officer Marlin?"

"Stop. Kid, if you want me to punt your sorry ass out this car then please, keep talking. But otherwise we are doing this in silence."

"It's just… I know that it's been hard for you the past few months –"

"What did I just say?"

"So I thought that you would like to talk about it. Your wife and all, dying."  
"Officer Jackson, I know what happened to my wife. What I don't know is why you won't shut up."

"Well my family died a year or so ago too. So, if you need to talk to somebody about it. I know what it's like." Daniel's southern drawl was creeping in, it always did when he wasn't watching it. Marlin looked at the kid and heard his wife's voice creeping into his head, "_Brandon, you used to be just like him. Ready to take on the world. Remember how you used to chase me around the store asking me if I had any idea what you were going to accomplish in this town? Let him be and humor him."_

Marlin squeezed his eyes, he couldn't get her to stop talking to him. He looked over at Daniel, who was still talking, and decided it wouldn't be the worst idea to talk about it.

"Alright. Alright, alright, I do have one question. If your family died just a little while ago, why in heaven's name are you so happy and fucking annoying?"

"I wish I could tell you that I believe that they are always with me or that I want to make them proud, but that's a lie. Honestly, I'm like this because I have no other choice."  
"I know, kid. Me too."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, until they pulled up to the Camber's garage.

The doors of the house were partly open and the mail was piling up by the mail box. _How odd._

"Let's go have a look." Marlin said, warily looking at the house.

They both got out of the squad car simultaneously. There wasn't any noise. Slowly, they walked up to the door, Daniel rapped the door: "This is the county police! Is anybody home?" After a little while of no answer, they pushed the door opened and walked in.

The smell was the first thing that hit. It was breezy and smelt of orange. The officers walked into the kitchen to find Charity Camber's with her arms deep in soapy dishwater, radio playing and her whistling softly. The floor was shiny and washed.  
"Excuse me, ma'am?"

"Oh! Officers! I didn't hear you come in. I was just finishing up cleaning, before going to pick Brett up from the Bergeron's house." She smiled sweetly. Daniels glanced around hoping to see some sort of disturbance to the house.

"Well, Mrs. Camber we received a call about an hour ago," Marlin prompted her hoping to see some sort of emotion flash over her eyes. "Someone on the line informed us of some sort of emergency. Would you happen to know anything about it?"

Charity's face remained stoic, as she dried her hands off on a dish rag nearby.

"I can't say that I do. But I'll be sure to ask Joe when he gets home, if he knows anything about it. I am so sorry to inconvenience you, but thank you for coming up and checking, officers."

Daniels had given up looking, "It's no trouble at all ma'am. Just doing our job. We'll get out of your hair now." Charity watched as the two officers got into their car and drove off and heaved a sigh of relief.

**1 hour earlier; after the death of Charlie Wilson**

"Holly, I _am _sorry we had to cut our trip short and you know I enjoy visiting you and the girls, but Brett was nervous about that dog of his. If anything happened with it, Joe would be very unhappy. We only left a day early. Hopefully, if Joe lets us we can visit again." Charity knew everything she was saying was just a bunch of bullshit to appease her sister. "Brett did love hanging out with his cousins. I'm sure Joe will appreciate that. Well, I'm at home now. Yes, yes I just dropped off Brett at a friend's house. I will call you soon, but first I need to unpack and check on Cujo. Alright, dear. Bye now."

Charity had wanted Brett to stay at his friends just in case Joe was drunk or angry or both. She picked up both of their suitcases, sighing at the house. _Home again. Hell again, jiggity jig. _ She looked around for Joe. She shut the car door with a thrust of her hip and started to awkwardly walk up the path. She opened the door and dropped the suitcases. _What is that smell? _ She followed the path Charlie Wilson had also taken, into the kitchen.

She opened the door to the kitchen. Charity saw her dead husband. _My husband is dead. Dead? Oh there's blood everywhere, all over the floor. _

She placed her cold, shaking hands on her forehead.

"I should call the police."

_But what if they think I did it? No, obviously this was an animal attack. _Then it dawned on her. _Cujo. The dog had rabies. Brett had told her, before they left. What would she do? Had Brett told anyone else? It doesn't have to be Cujo. It could be another wild animal… _

_But it is Cujo. The police would blame her, for not acting in the correct manner. Then what would she do?_

Charity stared at the body. _I have to move him somewhere else. _She cringed as she grabbed the end of his legs and moved him out the back porch, blood sliding everywhere. _Hold it together, Charity. _ Charity grabbed a tarp and shoved the body onto it. Blood covered her hands. She dragged the tarp and the body into the woods, digging her heels into the dirt. _Almost there, just far enough away to arise suspicion that it wasn't our dog. _

Charity ran back to the house and buried the tarp with her husband's shovel. _My late husband. _She corrected herself mentally.

Once, she was back in the house, she grabbed the bleach and the soap and scrubbed the floors until they were clean. _I don't feel bad that he's dead… _She realized. _I just feel, numb. Relieved. I will probably have to work on that when we have a funeral. _

_Tonight I'll call the police and tell them Joe didn't come home. Maybe I'll leave for a little while, I'll have to check with- No one. Joe isn't here to beat you if you disobey. _She felt odd, but she had the kitchen and the porch and everywhere in between clean.

Suddenly, she heard a car. _Oh shit, oh shit it's the police. _She raced back into the kitchen, switching the radio on and shoving her hands under some water.

If Daniels and gone a little closer, he would have seen the blood stain on the radio handle or the bloody water that had recently been rinsed down the sink, but instead he found Charity Camber's whistling and washing her kitchen.

Four hours later, Charity phoned the police that her husband was missing. She also left to go stay at a hotel, so the police could check her house. Cujo had disappeared for the time being. But lately, Donna Trenton had been having trouble with her car and had driven and stalled the car up to Joe's garage.

She got out, slammed the door, and took two steps toward the front of the car, intending to cross in front of the hood to the passenger side and let Tad out of his harness. She stopped, her head coming up at once, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. For a moment she couldn't, and she was suddenly terrified, not by the sound itself but by its seeming directionlessness. It was nowhere. It was everywhere.

"Mommy?" Tad poked his head out his open window as far as the seatbelt harness would allow. "I can't get this damn old—"

"_Shhh!" _

(growling)

She took a tentative step backward, her right hand resting lightly on the Pinto's low hood, her nerves on trip wires as thin as filaments, not panicked but in a state of heightened alertness, thinking: _It didn't growl before. _

Cujo came out of Joe Camber's garage. Donna stared at him, feeling her breath come to a painless and yet complete stop in her throat. It was the same dog. It was Cujo. But—

_But oh my, oh my God_

The dog's eyes settled on hers. They were red and rheumy. They were leaking some viscous substance. The dog seemed to be weeping gummy tears. His tawny coat was caked and matted with mud and—

_Blood , is that? It is, it's blood Christ, Christ. _


End file.
